12 Miles Below
Book 8 - Actual Chapter 3: Dying Wills

Super important author's note:

So I mislabeled chapter 3 on Patreon - and I have two chapter 3's running around on patreon. One of which was supposed to be chapter 4.

Which means of course I accidentally posted chapter 4 instead of chapter 3.

Here is the corrected chapter 3, and I'll post chapter 4 after.

“I knew that asshole hid it there. I was this close to figuring it out, three gods smite me down if I’m lying.”

Hexis really had hidden his little secrets on the exact page I kept looking at, the one that had the only mention of me anywhere on there, and at that just an image.

Turns out one of the hands was pointing out of the page upwards, and tracing a direct line would have it path over a few handfuls of numbers and letters.

Those turned out to be a cypher needed to read the actual contents of the page, which was a convoluted key based on one single interaction I had with Hexis.

To be fair, I remember that one perfectly because it had been the day I beat him at his own godsdamned game, and that equation was a little special to me from that.

Once that was cracked, the actual archive was technically hidden in between all the pages of the document. As in I would need to input a page number into the go-to search bar. The first page cracked open by the Icon was page 12.18394728.

It had taken the Icon thirty two seconds to crack this. She didn’t say much, other than a quick summary on what to type into the page lookup bar, and the rest was history. She did seem oddly quiet. As if walking into my office, handing me my requested report, and walking back out as fast as possible.

On opening the first secret page, I realized why.

Hexis had left me a personal message. Specifically for me.

Apprentice.

I have no doubts you have found this page expecting a table of contents and all the secrets of the world unveiled.

In this presumption, you are entirely correct. I have enclosed every occult fractal the guilds know of. The sum total collected over all our history.

However, before such a thing, I have enclosed one more item of note. My last will. As you are reading this, know that in all probability, I am likely dead. And, as many elders before me, awareness of impending death tends to liberate one's tongue.

As such, there is something I wish to confess to.

Of no small surprise to you, nor your Deathless clan lord, know that I have come to the surface for less than altruistic reasons.

What may come as an actual surprise to you is with whom I have been conspiring with.

Not a rival guild nor any of the petty squabbling so often found among our kind. No, it was a Feather by the name of To’Avalis. I believe you and him are acquainted, in so much that he seems to have extreme interests in you and your eradication.

He discovered my travel plans to the surface and sought me out to offer a bargain, long before I had even set foot within your clan’s hanger.

The terms he offered were generous. Arcane knowledge beyond anything humanity had discovered.

In return, I would report your actions and secret a tracker on your person. No doubt he would have laid a strong ambush almost immediately upon your re-entry into civilization and then continued to hound after you no matter where you hid.

His arguments were persuasive, I had full faith he would deliver on his promises. In this regard, our pact was irontight as the Feather believed he could trust my greed.

By all accounts, he should have been correct on that front.

I fully intended on betraying any and all information I could find, obtaining the knowledge I desired so that I might reclaim my old glories and comfortable life.

For reasons I will not explain to you, I have changed my mind over the duration of your tutelage.

As for evidence: See the pin I gave you denoting you my apprentice. The one you carry is a duplicate. The true version was crafted by that Feather, and had a tracking device embedded within it. A fact I plan to use against him.

I will wait one full month after you leave, reporting no changes. Once I am certain enough time has passed, I will place his pin within another expedition your clan lord sends. There are dozens sent each week given the activity happening here. Let him hunt down after a target that never returns underground at all.

And yet, I doubt I will emerge unscathed. Even if I am able to escape past his notice and flee to the safety of an imperial fortress, I have no doubts a Feather such as To’Avalis would chase after, simply for this one transgression.

They are immortal, relentless, and follow their directive with single minded focus for centuries without pause.

When To’Avalis hunts me down, I suspect he will wish to speak with me face to face in order to directly obtain your coordinates. In this, I thank you for building my staff to my specifications. Contrary to what you likely suspect, I am quite satisfied with its grievous disregard of basic safety features.

Perhaps I will be able to teach one last lesson to a willing student.

As for the rest of this tome, I would have likely make lofty claims to not reveal this book to anyone or anything, however I believe such a time and era has come to an end.

Unfortunately, nothing you will find in this book will catch the machines by surprise, as anything we could discover, so could they. However, with the contents delivered, I have no doubt you will complete your training and surpass the grand warlocks themselves.

Your winterblossom technique, alliances, and crafted weapons render you largely immune to anything the guilds could send after you if they discover this book within your possession. I would laugh if they even made an attempt to silence you, the arrogant fools that they are.

Thus, what you do with this book is your own choice. May your three gods guide you along your purpose. And may you remain true to your own purpose in life. It is more important than you might think.

Farewell Keith Winterscar, of House Winterscar.

-Grand Warlock Hexis Galrament

Wrath came to my side, sitting down next to me. She had a look on her face, as if she could tell what was going on under my armor.

“I do not know what you are thinking about or reading.” She finally said, “However, I can see that it is having an effect on you. Are you researching a difficult topic?”

She’d probably been keeping an eye on the vitals Journey passively reported out. Probably wasn’t hard at all to figure me out.

I looked over to her. Feeling numb, but not. “I… don’t really know. I finally cracked Master Hexis’s book, and he left a message for me."

Even Keith Superior hadn't completely understood why I was feeling anything at all. But he hadn't lived through that history himself. If I can't explain it to another version of myself, how could I explain it to anyone else? "I... you know what, just look it over yourself. I don't even know how to describe it in words.”

I sent her the file. She didn’t even blink, but I knew she’d already read the entire thing.

“I see.” She simply said. “I cannot say he was a good human given his intentions of betraying us. However, he clearly appreciated his role as a teacher. I have fond memories working together with you in overcoming his training methods. I did not ever have a chance to speak to him for long, he seemed intent on avoiding any interaction. In hindsight with this information, I understand why.”

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“He’s mostly sure To’Avalis is going to get him. But I know that old asshole, no way he’s actually dead. Is he?”

Somehow, some part of me just knew he was gone. Almost by instinct.

Wrath tilted her head, “We may have a way of knowing definitively. To’Avalis does not engage without meticulous planning, and teamwork with my elder siblings. If there was a fight between that Feather and Hexis,” She turned to To’Orda. He didn’t move from his spot at the rock, only his eyes turned to match her gaze. “Then I believe he might have some information.”

Lights in their eyes seemed to flicker as they talked to each other silently.

“I am sorry Keith.” Wrath said and I felt my gut drop at the words. “To’Orda confirms there was a confrontation with your old master. It is also the reason why To’Avalis failed to repair his chassis thus far.”

“The godsdamned staff I made for him.” I said, already knowing where this was going. “He used it.”

Wrath nodded. “I have the video footage. Do you wish to see it?”

No. Not really. I didn't want to see my first actual Occult master and semi-friend get executed in cold blood. “Send it. I owe him that.”

She sent it. And I saw the last moments of Grand Warlock Hexis Galrament.

I saw the fight from To’Orda’s point of view. Heard his last words. And then nothing but white light as only To’Orda’s golden mite shield protected him and To’Avalis from complete destruction. It hadn’t completely saved To’Avalis at least. The shockwaves around did a number on them both, but To’Orda’s chassis was completely unscratched going into the fight. He was able to withstand the high temperatures and pressure differentials, along with the resulting wall slam.

To’Avalis on the other hand got squashed, burned, half-melted and utterly ruined more or less due to the amount of weak points already exposed. That he even survived at all that close to the source of the detonation was all on To'Orda's insane speed and danger sense. That Feather could bring out some heavy hitting moves when he was actually forced into it.

“Retainers are trained to expect people to die around us.” I eventually said after a few minutes of silence. “I think I forgot some of those lessons. I'll be fine. Just, need to process.”

Out on the expeditions on the surface, on average there was always one or two that died depending on how long the expedition lasted. It was simply expected. Hearing it happen constantly always kept everyone mentally prepared. It stayed in the back of the head, a quiet knowledge that anytime anyone stepped out into the ice, the only two directions back were off the ice or buried under it.

I think it hit me fully right then. That I’d never see him again. Never be able to gloat about all the things I’ve discovered since leaving. Never just sit down and talk theories about math, chaos, and the universe at large. Never see him accidentally smile, then frown and get cranky because his 'mystique' as a surly elderly grandmaster was getting ruined by my constant questions.

Wrath wrapped a hand around me, and brought me close, holding me tight as I felt the emotions rollercoaster inside.

“He was such a pompous unrepentant asshole.” I eventually said, “I’m sure he’s godsdamned happy with how he left.”

If there was any way to go down, let it be fighting off two Feathers and nearly destroying them both.

I wrapped Wrath back and hugged her tight, feeling a little less alone in the world.

Artificial sunlight woke Drakonis up. A small breeze carried through, feeling a little bit damp as he opened his eyes.

He'd woken earlier than expected. Post-death he remembered something happening. Dreamlike. Perhaps the lower strata reduced the time to respawn? Whatever was in the great beyond, he felt a massive entity coalesce around him, judge with a thousand voices, and decide he needed to be returned back sooner. A vague feeling of an apostate, an emperor and an heir had to be met.

And then nothing. Just light, and the breeze of water as he woke.

He was naked, on top of a field of wild green grass and thick oaken trees all around as company. Occasional flowers of various colors sprouted around the grove here, and even the buzz of insects flying around. He could see bits of the world past the treeline as wind swayed it like a wave: Beyond, far above, he saw oceans flowing over the ceiling. Light passed through the water outwards, illuminating the world as if he were underwater. It was like gravity on the ceiling had been flipped. Massive stones would rise up from those depths, crash into one another, then halt their movements all at once.

The more he looked at this strange world, the more he realized those stones weren’t stones at all but weapons. The shape of swords, axes, shields, armor, all carved out in massive granite slabs, then lifted up from the depths to interlock among each other.

The entire biome here was like a moving memory of war.

They would all unfreeze at the same time and fall back down into the ocean, then the landscape would reform as different weapons once more rose and crushed into one another, freezing in place for the next ten minutes after one minute of chaos.

Just enough time for the water on the stones to pool down and start letting sections dry off in the ambient warmth.

The pattern would repeat again and again. But he could see a few landmarks that remained frozen in place at all times. Three massive diagonal pillars would cradle a small orb, almost like a sconce. And on that orb was a circle of grass and tree, much like the meadow he had woken up into.

They were obvious in a world of white and grey rocks, with glowing blue ocean under it all. Almost seemed like green wallflowers sprouting randomly at different heights.

He spent the time simply laying down instead, basking in the artificial sunlight that bled through the sea, leaves and distant sounds. Watching without thoughts for a good half hour. It had felt like years since he’d simply stopped.

Drakonis had been searching for absolution. He realized it now, hindsight being so crystal clear.

The only people he’d cared about in his short life had been killed in war, and he’d been forced to live on without them, not processing why he had been the one to survive. His attempts to fight and avenge them had failed, so he’d set out to grow stronger. When he returned stronger, he realized he should have stayed instead. And when he chased after his enemy, he was beaten back and tossed down into hell.

It felt like every attempt he’d made to heal, avenge or move on from everything had both been the wrong choice and threw him further into the pit.

Maybe that’s what he’d been searching for all this time. To die. But he couldn’t, so the second best option was to live in a way that would be worth something.

As Drakonis died in that Feather’s oversized hand, he felt that part of him unraveled its toxic hooks in his head. The self-hatred, the burning guilt, all of it felt like a squeezing claw around his throat - slowly growing slack.

This was what he’d wanted. This was the peace he’d been looking for. He couldn’t heal his past friends, but he could heal someone else’s future. So that at least one other person out in this stupid fucking nonsense world wouldn’t have to go through what he had.

He finally got back up on his feet to see what was around him, past the trees here. And very quickly he reached the edge of this little landmass and got a better understanding of everything here.

“Golden tits, where the fuck did I end up at?” He hissed under his breath at the scale of the world beyond him.

This entire biome was a cylinder, with everything on the inside. What was above him, was the same as what was nearby him too. Oceans under him, with a slope of weapons crushed up against one another, a hundred thousand holes in between the gaps falling back down into the sea. He could see other small green islands of trees and peace among the stones. Places that wouldn’t fall back down into the waters.

He was in one of those cradled landscapes, where life was allowed.

No, not just one of many - it was the highest one raised above the sea. Everything else always formed into a large slope, leading downwards from his vantage point. Like a citadel tower within this giant cylinder, the centerpoint. Anyone stepping into this biome would see this place at the landmark to orient themselves. Hells, if he climbed to the top of the pillar heart, he could probably jump and gravity would start to drag him down in the other way. Up into the other side, to the sea above.

There was a shield of sorts that circled this little cradle of life. He could see it as droplets of water thrown up this far collided against something invisible, dribbling down like it were a glass barrier.

He’d need to have the place fortified to survive the machines who’d sensed him arrive, at some point all pillar hearts turned off for self-maintenance. This far up, exposed on all sides and in the most obvious location in the entire biome, he’d be spotted almost immediately from miles away the moment he walked out from the trees.

Hell, just navigating on the rock landscape here would make him stand out as the only thing with color besides white, wet and grey.

There would be work to do in arming himself, practicing with his spells, and generally growing as strong as he could for the task that was ahead of him. Traversing this biome didn’t worry him greatly. The more he used the occult grapple, the more he realized why a seasoned veteran like Lionheart had hounded them all to get and train it as soon as possible. He'd been insistent that all Deathless have a mobility based skill at all times. This was why.

He’d also need to get some clothing in some way, even if it would end up being only twigs and grass. There were trees here, giant oaks with large leaves, all surrounding the center heart, the tips licking the edges of the pillar itself. It wouldn’t look great, but it would be something at least.

This land was wild. He was certain to be the first human to ever walk on it since its creation by the mites given how far down the stratas he ended up in.

There would be work to be done.

But for now, he felt like he could take a break and relax. Just for an hour or two at least. No voice in his head demanded he get back into action. No guilt whispered at him to work harder. No self-hatred ran through his veins, accusing him of not being enough.

He’d done his part. He felt free. So he laid back down on the soft grass and let the dim sunlight glowing through the sea above and around warm him up.

“An interesting location. I sense I am still connected to my greater whole, and yet not. An offshoot. I should be dying, yet I persist.”

And he felt a new voice in his head. Speaking with words that weren’t quite words, but feelings and impressions. And more importantly - it wasn’t from him.

“What the fuck?!” Drakonis called out, jumping on the grass, eyes searching around the small glade here. Some kind of mite shit, part of this biome maybe? He’d heard of one biome that had a talking doorway at the centerpoint. To cross, people would have to run around the area gathering tribute before it opened. This could be something like that.

“Be not afraid.” The voice in his head spoke. “I do not seek conflict. I am a passenger, attached by coincidence and happenstance. As confused as you are of the events.”

Not quite words, but almost felt like them. “How did you get in my head?” Drakonis asked, head turning left and right. "Where the fuck are you? Show yourself."

“You traveled through my lands unprotected.” The voice answered. “Yet you are not dying in my presence. You are continually regenerating, as my own spores are continually recycled. It is unnatural. Neither of us gaining. Neither of us losing. A balance. I should be dead a dozen times over. And yet I am not. Are all humans like you?”

“What the fuck are you?” He hissed

“Your companion gave me a name.” The voice said. “I am named Bob.”